9-14-06

My toddler was awake at 5:15 a.m. and as of 5:18 p.m. has yet to nap. So because of this lack of rest today he has had a myriad of activities (for me). To start with today was the day I tackled vacuuming the stairs. Now I know that sounds boring and easy but I went all out rotating attachments to get all the crevices, all the dust bunnies, cat hair, beads, and miniscule particles that appear from beyond (what can I say I live in a Jackie Collin’s novel). I don’t mean to brag but it looked fabulous until my blond ball of energy decided to tweeze the cat… yes… and what’s even odder is that the cat sat for this de-hairing exercise…. Ok then on to emptying his dresser drawers… till you could hear an echo. He removed each item and made sure nothing was left folded and no like items together, I guess a fall sprucing was in order. Each diaper change consisted of me using the few WWF moves that I saw Hulk Hogan perform in the day. He also orchestrated the removal of all his toys from their containers and spread them across his now chocolate chip cookie smeared bed, that apparently he smuggled upstairs while I working on some other menial task(like scrubbed pencil marks off the wall). Well I just had to step away from this story to calm the wide eyed moppet. He was franticly trying to cram every item he owns in his backpack. He kicked, pushed, and screamed… then swayed and bobbed… and now is conked out. Nothing like the sweet little angel napping at 5:48 p.m. that should make for an interesting night…

9-12-06

Yesterday while I was taking out the garbage I walked through a web… ok gross right? But it was the inhabitant of this web that sent me into hysterics. He was huge (he looked at me and mouthed “yum”, ok!) Basically I was frightened out of my mind. First I went into the hee bee gee bee dance all the while cussing (the usual cuss words but I made up some new ones… I’m very creative that way.)Once I established he was no longer on me and he had climbed back up his sinister web, I knew I had to get him for I would never sleep again (sorry all you bug lovers). I looked around for my weapon of choice and it happened to be a rake (plastic not even metal, what I really wanted was a blow torch… maybe next time I’m in Target) Anyway, my spasms had not subsided (I keep slapping myself all over feeling the creepy crawlies!), I pulled him and his web down with the rake. Unfortunately the trauma had made me a bit out of sorts… I couldn’t think of my next move as he shuffled off. I thought the “duh” moment had passed as I tried to attack him with the rack (I’m not a valedictorian) but of course that was not successful (rakes have spaces, genius I am). Ok so now what… A shoe but where will I get one of those? (The ones on my feet were way to obvious… remember I was violated people, he started it.) So I found another shoe and completed my goal (again I hope I’m not offending any PITA members (people identifying to arachnids). So I got back into the house but once more felt something on me and at this point I really freaked. Cussing, banging my head against the wall (yes I know ow but I thought … no I didn’t think), and jittering around. I finally jittered and jived all the way to the chair where I just sat. I have decided not to leave the house because if this guy has even one friend…

9-8-06

Is it me or has Target got its own zip code now? The marketing guys that design the set-up for the store are geniuses. No matter which door you enter you’ll always need something on the opposite side so you must travel the whole store. Now if I was alone (no kids) I would browse forever (M&M’s, shower curtains, shoes, make-up, whatever you can think of), lame that I would count that as a mini vacation. Anyway to enter the store with kids you really need to have a plan (similar to breaking in to a bank). You must have all the supplies needed to get in and out, wipes, drinks, snacks, list, a suicide pill if it just gets out of control, purse, and cell phone (because you can always call your husband directly at work and scream as they scream). So as I enter the store unprepared, other than the Neopet cards that my 7 year old daughter wants, I feel a sense of dread. First off my 2 1/2 year old doesn’t want to sit in the cart; he went stiff leg on me immediately. Well now I have to lay down the rules for walking independently. No running, jumping, dragging, screaming, screeching, (there is a difference), pulling, pushing…. Oh he is off skipping away already. Secondly, the only plan I had, the Neopet cards, are not in stock. This turns into eyelash batting and “we can look for something else right?” I’m screwed. Forty minutes, bathroom break and cart full of stuff later I think we are pretty much home free, nothing’s broken or on fire so we are good. But as soon as I turn my back my 2 ½ year old disappears. I calmly call him (I popped some capillaries in my face) thank the heavens he is just around the corner. Unfortunately he has two bottles of K-Y warming liquid on each ear and he is moving them like he’s trying to get a signal. Trying to get a hold of someone on another planet, Venus maybe? Not embarrassing at all… I just discreetly take the antennas and move away… Nope we’re (he’s) pissed! He begins flailing and hollering, dropping to the floor just to hit his head so the tears can be real (method actor). I try to pick him up whispering sweet nothings into his ear (death, please, never see me again, ya know the usual), but nothing works. Biting and kicking have started and he is now lying in (on) the main aisle just adjacent to the contraceptives (a public service ad if I ever saw one). Of course I try to ignore him smiling at the other visitors, chit chatting with them…“kids will be kids”, “no nap today” (he did), “hasn’t been feeling well” (he’s fine), and “aliens are melting his brain he just was on the”… oh never mind. Somehow I bribe him to the check out line (Halloween flashlight…I know, it’s just September 8th). I begged him to sit in the cart while all 40 of us wait in the open two lines but he preferred digging for nose gold and staring at people. I finally check out and not two steps away from the register he wants to ride! I get into the car and sob not because of his fit or my new bruises it’s because I know I have forgotten something, I always do.

8-24-06

Did I ever mention that my 2 1/2 year old licks the towel when he’s done washing his hands? Nasty right? Well this weekend while we were camping (I mean that loosely we had a cabin with air, shower and toilet) he brought his Aunt and I a plastic cup filled with water. “Mmmm”, he said lapping at his lips. I thought where did he get that? I don’t think he can reach the sink… Well people I don’t think you have to be Nancy Drew to crack this whodunit. I really wanted my sister in law to lie to me about where he retrieved the sparkling libation (actually I demanded she lied to me, there was a bit (teeny bit) of screaming…) but it was written all over her face (neon lighted even). Anyway it’s been about five days since that incident and I’m getting near him again (I’m not running away anymore like Michael Myers is chasing me (not the Austin Powers, the Halloween…although he can be quite frightening with those teeth). Actually today I let him hold my hand while we went for a walk …until… the fire hydrant… As I scream and gag at the same time trying to explain to him that “sucking on it wont get you anything” he looks over at me grins gives it one more lick then skips off…Yucky poo-poo, I sigh…until… the next fire hydrant (really must there be so many of them!)…

8-16-06

Remember the new hose attachment for my backyard hose? Well my husband also purchased one for the front. So am I totally shocked that this morning as my three kids and I were trying to rush out to take my oldest to soccer that the 2 year old took us hostage with the tsunami mode on the hose? No I guess I shouldn’t be. I shielded my seven year old daughter from the direct hit (the kids got no problem with aim now) which left me drenched (I wish I was exaggerating). We made it back inside slamming, the door as he pummeled us, laughing the entire time. My 14 year old made it behind the van; he had to save us because now my daughter and I were trapped inside. I screamed at the two year old through the glass window in the door but this just seemed to excite him more as he sprayed at me, shaking with amusement. I watched as my oldest stalked him with slow movements ready to overtake the little bugger. But oh no the two year old was on to him, he turned at the exact moment of attack and targeted my eldest sending him running, then he turned back to me to spray at me through the glass. Finally I guess the right amount of high pitched wails(coming from my now sore throat) kept him distracted enough for him to be over thrown, stripped from his crown and deflated he bowed his head in defeat and stomped off. Riding in the car with my underwear meshing to my skin is a great way to start any day.

8-15-06

As I sit outside on a beautiful cloudless day, reading my new highly anticipated novel, my 2 year old watering the thirst deprived plants with the new hose attachment, I find myself humming to the weather gods. He looks so angelic my blond boy misting the yard and I’m reading away. It’s like something out of a Rockefeller portrait. WHAM! Gasping for air, water is pounding away at my tone svelte body (ha-ha). My sweet bambino is attacking me! He has change the setting from mist to TIDAL WAVE! As I push my way through the skin removing stream I grab the hose and I … take a breath… I pull myself together … I’m alright… laser resurfacing is expensive; I’ve just saved possible thousands…I turn the hose on the little hellion and use full power. Let’s just say the laughing from his tiny mouth stopped very suddenly. I set down the hose to survey the damage. Book is sopping, I am sopping, now baby is sopping… great now more to do but I chuckle inside, I got the little turkey. I now head for the door and… Sweet Baby Ray’s he’s got the WMI (weapon of mass irrigation) again. The cackles coming from him are definitely something from “The Exorcist” (I swear I saw his head spin too.) Crap… I lean left… then fake back … twisting to avoid the onslaught of spray… I jump… I dive… breathing hard I make it to the door where just as I open it his aim has improved (let’s just say he’d win the kewpie doll). I’m down, struggling to get the door close before the family room is covered in flood! As I shut the door panting as if I just ran the Boston marathon, he appears at he door soaking and sobbing no more chuckles, his big wet blue eyes look up at me like a lost puppy, I look down at him … stick out my tongue and walk away… settle down I’m more mature than that… I let him in, trying not to strangle him as I dry him off… see I’m a grown up calm down…

7-31-06

I had to run to the bank on Saturday I asked my daughter if she’d like to go with me, “boring but ok.” We ran to the bank and then I told her she could pick out lunch. She wasn’t really thrilled but I pulled the car over to discuss all our choices. I ran through all the fast food options ( if you go down the secret hallway in each fast food joint you will find the wee lettered poster with all the nutritious facts of each and every item that these exceptional places offer). Taco bell…maybe… McDonalds…I hate their burgers... Beef Villa…no way... Chicken…alright. Okay Popeye’s or KFC? The one with the picture of the face… are you sure last time you didn’t like that as much, let’s drive by Popeye’s see if that is the one first. We drive by and she said no not his one. I say they have biscuits too… no, no, no. So I drive another 82 miles (not that far but not next door either) to KFC. We pull up and she says that this is the place. I get in line, 2 cars in front and one pulls right in behind me. I turn to her with a smile and say “ok, what kind of chicken do you want?” She gives me a disgusted 7 year old look and says “I don’t want chicken… I just want a biscuit.” Ugh…

7-25-06

In my haste to tell the story of “The Negligent Other Half” I missed some important factors. First the litter box is a covered box… “He” put the liner in but omitted the key kitty ingredient… cat sand. Secondly (and most importantly), he seemed to miss out on all the “tidying up.” You know picking up and disposing of all the prize presents left behind and scrubbing the “essence” out of the upholstered chair. Lastly (maybe even more importantly) have I received any sort of commendation for my efforts through this trying time? Um? Perhaps praise? Some sort of trinket? Well people if I had I would not be straining my hand, typing away, still telling on the f*&^%$# fellow now would I?

7-24-06

Friday morning I went to the basement to start laundry and right at the base of the stairs … cat poop. I hollered (aren’t I cute) up to my husband “one of the cats had an accident on the carpet.”(Actually there were a lot of curse words but I’m going for the PG rating) My husband says he just changed their litter last night, a few more exchanges of words and I chalk it up to a fluke, but Saturday the same thing downstairs on the carpet, kitty dookie. Now we have two cats and I don’t know who’s doing it so I tell the kids to be alert be aware of all the cats movements (ha- ha movements). Anyway all Saturday nothing else. Of course I go to work Sunday morning and can they (I really mean “him”) keep things in check (no). First I get a call that the baby spilled something on the floor and put a towel on it. Then it’s a call with it may be cat pee. Last it’s a call saying “he”(the husband)couldn’t smell anything but has my 14 year old put his nose in it to check( at this point I can still hear my teen in the background gagging… verifying it’s the puss’s pee!) Okay now what’s up? One of the cat’s is sick it’s gonna cost me an arm and a leg to fix it, etc., and etc. First thing when I get home I don’t stress it, except for the fact that the piss covered towel is sitting in the sink…SITTING IN THE SINK!? All day…What!? “Well I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with it” … “Oh you must be clairvoyant because I wanted you to leave it in the sink until the fairies come and carry it off!”(Jac*&ss). We will just eat dinner and my investigation can start later (no stressing). So after dinner, after scrubbing the sink, after starting the laundry, after doing the baths, I sat down to discuss the tinkle trouble. The family tells me she (we still don’t know which one) peed under the chair that I am occupying. I say I can still smell it, I rewashed the floor, but as I sat there I kept sniffing (which my family felt was quite amusing). I could not stand it any longer so I took apart the room smelling everything but I came right back to the chair. At that moment I was praying I was wrong but I started smelling the chair (not a folding chair, not a dining room chair not a fisher price plastic chair, my new upholstered chair) … I wasn’t wrong... she Pissed in the chair…The freakin’ chair I was sitting in! My eye began to twitch (I thing I may implode) but I hold it together (I know most of you are shocked, trust me I’m shocked). I clean the crud out of the chair and realize that one of the cats must be really sick. Sleep beckons I must retire, so we all pass out…and it was event free all night until I open my eye (just one) to see my 7 year old daughter standing above me declaring she won’t go downstairs because the cat pooped on the chair… I think she’s very funny I cleaned it up last night and it was pee not poop ha-ha… eyes closing again…“but it’s disgusting!” Please be a joke…I drag my limp body from bed… downstairs I go… crabby tired seeping from every part of me…I walk right into… the newly defecated crime scene! … NOOOOOO! I pick up the phone and began to scream expletives at my husband through the phone. Oh my god…I’m going to strangle the cats … why me …cat pee smells worse that sewage… come home and clean this up…cats are Satan’s friends(little ears look like horns right?)…why me … get home now…I’m calling the guys that clean up after CSI… After I hang up (I’m very harmonious at this point, no worries) I call the vet and beg for some miracle to make her stop. She says that they could run extensive tests (meaning sell an organ if you want help $$$$) but it may not tell us anything (you’re screwed). Basically separate the cats and watch them (ohhh like watching paint dry) is my cheapest choice. I head down to the basement to start laundry (Desperate housewife huh? more like desolate housewife.) Sadly there is more cat dung at the bottom of the stairs… I am going to snap, break, and crack. I decide to check their litter (before heading out to purchase another litter box and 903 yards of plastic wrap) for perhaps spiders nest or some sort of gremlin hiding in the covered box. As I lift the lid off the box my worst fears come true… a small family of rats, no, angry biting Brazilian beetles, no… much more terrifying… my masterful husband DID NOT PUT LITTER IN THE BOX! He, him, *^&%&^%&^&, no litter… GOD &^&^%^$% son of **^&^%%$%8768 …What the*^&& %& … I’m going to kill… revenge… retribution will be MINE!!...*dramatic pause* … (insert menacing music)… Oh, he’s home now I need to go leave a special surprise in his car…